


Here Comes The Sun

by Jo (mindsofiron)



Series: The World is Bundled Up in You [1]
Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, First Times, I don't know what has happened but I can't stop writing in this verse, Sexytimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 15:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindsofiron/pseuds/Jo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the relationship develops, they graduate and go on a trip, and sexytimes happens like I promised they would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here Comes The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to eiluned for being my beta for this, and for being so lovely about it! Also, fair warning: I know First Times are supposed to mostly be awkward as hell and sweet but fuck this one is porny. I suppose you can't get away with that when it's Clint and Natasha, even in AU.
> 
> Also, I can't stop writing in this verse, you guys, it's amazing and it's really like a fucking world of its own, so if anyone wants to drop me prompts for stuff in this verse, you can leave it in the comments or pm me or something, or leave me an ask at mindsofiron.tumblr. I'd honestly be happy to do it. Enjoy!
> 
> (Title for this chapter from The Beatles, title for the series adapted from Jeanette Winterson's "Written On The Body": the world is bundled up in this room.)

Things eventually rush all the way into graduation, and Clint manages to coax Natasha back out of her little shell. She becomes fast friends with Rogers, and eventually even Barnes starts to come around their table to share jokes and introduce his friends. They remain as separate groups, but now Natasha has a widening and steady circle of friends. It makes her happy, and Clint is happy about that too.

  
  
A small, selfish bit of him wonders what he’ll do if they break up again and how his friends would cope, but then he pushes that aside – it’s too painful a train of thought. He knows so much about her and he still loves her; knows that she doesn’t much like coffee (in contrast, it’s practically his life-juice) and gets very easily irritable when she needs personal space, and wants him to be around when she’s done with that, but even if it annoys him a little sometimes, he loves her.

  
  
Love isn’t about loving somebody’s idiosyncrasies unconditionally, he decides. It’s about recognising that despite the little bumps in a relationship, a quarrel doesn’t mean breaking up and being annoyed with each other doesn’t mean ignoring it and letting it fester.

  
  
-  


  
By the time prom rolls by, he’s bought a little silver necklace with a small arrow pendant, each end connected to the slim chain. She doesn’t say anything when she turns and lifts her hair for him to put it on, but her eyes are glinting with a sheen of tears and she hugs him so tight it feels like she never wants to let go.  


  
-  


  
She buys him an hourglass as a graduation present. It’s sleek and silver and the sand in it is dyed black, and it’s the most gorgeous thing they’ve both ever seen. She buys it because it reminds her of how they have so many moments together, and when it seems like they run out, they turn their lives over and rediscover every bead of sand – every little thing they share. She thinks that it’s the closest to forever that she’s willing to say.  


  
She forgets that he doesn’t know it, so she goes off and takes a little personal time for herself, curling up and reading poetry and listening to obscure music. She texts him and occasional line or two and gushes about how beautiful the books are, before going back into her mental hole.  


  
Meanwhile, he freaks out for three straight days and paces and calls Bruce and panics about how this might be a subtle break-up gift because it means that their time together is running out. Understanding that it’s childish and possibly very much uncalled for, Clint mopes around until Bruce calls Natasha.  


  
She turns up at his door in a mint green sundress, hair wild and catching the sun. For a moment, they just stare at each other, and then she steps forward and kisses him hard. Given that they haven’t had that much contact in awhile, Natasha thinks it’s understandable that she practically melts into him when he responds just as fiercely. He has an arm banded tight around her waist, the other hand sinking into her curls, and she can’t help the little moan and shiver that escapes her.  


  
He pulls back suddenly, flushing a little and apologising. She likes it, and he’s never like this because he’s always cautious about pushing her, but they’ve never talked about it and she makes a note to, after they talk about this.

  
“When I gave you that hourglass,” she begins, and she only spots the little widening of his eyes because she’s properly looking. He turns away and cards a hand through his hair, screwing his eyes shut and looking as if he’s bracing himself. She stifles a little chuckle. “I meant – I meant to say forever.”  


  
If possible, Clint stiffens even more. She comes to him and winds her arms around his waist, pressing close against his back.  


  
“You mean the world to me. You see me, and you still love me,” she whispers. “I’m never going to leave you.”  


  
He exhales on a long sigh, turning and gripping her to him, pressing his face into her hair.  


  
“Now can we agree that we’ll talk to each other about anything silly next time?” she asks.  


  
His chuckle vibrates against her temple.  


  
-  


  
Their first quarrel comes when Natasha is having particularly bad doldrums and jumps at their yearbook phototaking. Bobbi has been friendly the entire afternoon, but hasn’t actually made any passes at him. She comes over and tries to shift him into position, getting a hand on his arm and pushing lightly. Natasha tenses behind him, but he brushes it off.  


  
Bobbi slaps him when he plays dumb, and they’re all laughing at him being pushed around by a girl one year younger. Only Steve seems to be looking at her with concern. Bobbi won’t seem to leave, so Natasha does. Her hand slips from his shoulder and her skirt brushes lightly past the small of his back, and then she’s gone, leaving the scent of roses, her hair lit like fire in the air as she stalks off.  


  
Steve says they can’t have the shoot without her, so they reschedule. Clint takes off after her, finding her eventually under the tree outside the admin building like last year.  


  
“Hey,” he greets, making himself at home beside her, “Are we going to talk about this?”  


  
“What?” she says shortly, picking at the skin around her nails.  


  
“This – thing you just did,” he says, a little fluttering in his chest starting up.  


  
“It’s just…” she trails off, and Clint takes the initiative to thread his fingers between hers, waiting patiently until she continues, “Can’t – I know this is irrational…just get jealous.”  


  
Finishing her admission on a mumble, Natasha ducks her head and grips his hand tighter, like she’s afraid he’s going to go away at her confession.  


  
“Eh,” he says, a little too casually – so that she knows he’s not angry at all, “It’s kinda cute. I don’t mind,”  


  
Entirely too happy and grinning wildly, she jerks her hand out of his and pushes hard as his shoulder, but he rolls onto his back on the grass, pulling her with him so she’s sprawled over him.

  
“I was jealous over Barnes, remember?” he reminds her, turning serious.  


  
A year older now, nothing’s changed for the two of them, and it’s moments like this that leave him feeling entirely as fulfilled and whole as he has always felt, and even stronger than when he’s alone. They’re in love, and not the kind that pits them against the world, but leaves them looking at it with more wonder amidst all the realism. There’s a certain harmony, a balance in what they have, and it makes the world a better place.  


  
She wants to tell him about it, sometimes - how he makes her better and stabler, but she can’t find the words, so she just shows him.  


  
-  


  
They graduate in a shower of confetti and graduation caps; Clint introduces Bobbi to Natasha and they become fast friends, to the redhead’s surprise. Bobbi is sharp and witty and fun, and she makes fun of Clint. Midway through summer, she’s suntanning with both her and Pepper when it becomes clear that Bobbi is not taken with Clint at all.  


  
She turns out to have the slightest small crush on Barnes instead. Natasha nearly laughs at the irony, but caps it and lets herself feel normal for once. There are no bruises on her skin, nothing hurts, the house is all hers, Clint’s parents let him stay over every other night, she has good friends, and everything feels perfect.  


  
The sun is warm on her skin, and in that split second she thinks of everything perfect and how Clint has really truly changed her life. The smile that splits her face is so piercing and so real it nearly hurts, and Natasha finally, finally understands T.S. Eliot’s line: _this is one moment/but know that another/shall pierce you with a sudden, painful joy._  


  
-  


  
She’s finally happy, and it scares a little sometimes because of how attached she is to this joy, but there’s something else that bothers her more.  


  


She craves Clint’s touch.  


  
It’s never been this way, even when she’s dated other boys. If she’s forced to think about it, she thinks it’s because they’re so close that she trusts him with everything. She’s never wanted someone to touch her before (repercussions of having an abusive guardian), but she craves the feel of his calloused fingers across her skin, his warm palm at the small of her back, his mouth hot on hers.  


  
Her trust for him has opened up so much for her, she’s not surprised that it’s also opened up a whole new facet she never knew was in her. She wants to press herself against him, wants him to kiss her until she’s dizzy, wants him to map the topography of her body with his fingers and lips.  


  
He won’t do it, though. It’s not that he doesn’t want her – she knows he does just by the way he stops their making out when she trails kisses down his neck, turns his hips away from hers or shifts her off his lap.  


  
She won’t push, and he only gives in to her, never takes too much, but she wants him to. She knows he’ll never push her too far. His reticence nearly has her screaming in frustration because he acts like he doesn’t know how patient or good a guy he is – but she does. For heaven’s sake, they’ve slept in the same bed with him spooning her and she’s pretty sure the few times she’s woken up with some part of his anatomy pressing against her hip, he’s tried not to let her notice.  


  
If his willingness to to just sleep with her and make her feel safe and not ask for more isn’t indicative of his good upbringing, she isn’t sure what is.  


  
-  


  
The next time it happens, the morning glow through her blinds is hot and the sheets are somewhere on the floor. Clint is in a white shirt and navy boxers, and she’s sleeping in a grey singlet that used to be his. Spooned like this, his hips are pressed against her ass and she can feel the morning wood that he’s currently sporting.  


  
She can’t help herself; she wiggles slightly, and he moans in his sleep, tightening his hold on her. A small smile crosses her lips and she does it again, firmer and surer now. He sucks in a deep breath and buries his face in her neck, waking slowly and groaning her name, trying to scoot their lower halves apart. She follows him, though, and anchors his hips against hers with a strong, small hand.  


  
“Tasha,” he warns, fingers pressing into her skin (it feels nothing like the hurt she’s used to; possessive but entirely comforting and steadying).  


  
“I want you,” she breathes, turning in his arms and kissing him fully awake.  


  
“Can’t,” he insists, granting her a reciprocative kiss before he pulls away and escapes to the bathroom.  


  
She drops it, but she doesn’t let it drive a wedge between them because she thinks, if he can wait for her to open up emotionally, then she can wait till he’s ready physically to be with her.  


  
She still slips up sometimes when they’re kissing hungrily, hands sliding up under his shirt, hips rolling against his. He always stops them both with a bereft groan that lets her know that he’s not impervious to her advances, not at all.  


  
-  


  
In the last month of their Summer holidays, right before college, Clint’s parents gift them with a belated graduation present – two plane tickets to Singapore for five days, complete with hotel bookings.  


  
-  


  
Natasha is hard-pressed to remember much about the trip, and so is Clint. They do remember the sight-seeing, and being on the Flyer together. There are apes and flamingoes and penguins, and really, really good food everywhere, including fusion cuisine at a place called Saveur.  


  
On the last morning, Natasha wakes to Clint shifting his hips against hers slightly. He’s still asleep, she realises, but a thrill passes through her when it registers that he’s grinding against her in his sleep. She presses back, gripping his fingers with his where they’re curled slightly against her abdomen.  


  
“Clint,” she whispers, craning her neck and kissing him awake, “Clint, hey.”  


  
She knows he’s awake when the movement of his hips stills, and his eyes remain shut as he turns away.  


  
“Hey,” she says, a little too loudly, “Hey, I – I want this.”  


  
She turns to face him and waits until he opens his eyes to look at her, and there is guilt and shame in his gaze, and the sorry look makes her sure that he’s The One that she wants to give herself to first, because it tells her that he’ll never take her for granted.  


  
“You can – he didn’t…Uncle Ivan never touched me like that, if you must know. You can have me…if you want me, Clint.” Becoming unsure, Natasha relaxes her grip a little. He tugs her closer.  


  
“Of course I do,” he insists, pressing his forehead against hers and kissing her swiftly. “I’ll always want you, Tasha – you’re sexy and beautiful and so perfect and I’m so in love with you.”  


  
She raises an amused eyebrow at him.  


  
“I just don’t want to push you into anything you don’t want.”  


  
A rush of tenderness for him overwhelms her, and she reaches up and tugs his head down to hers, sucking on his bottom lip and then stroking her tongue against his.  


  
“I love you,” she breathes into his parted lips. “I want you, Clint, I want this.”  


  
“I don’t know how,” he stutters, stopping and pulling back.  


  
“It’s okay,” Natasha whispers, “Me neither.”  


  
His gaze goes glassy and wide-eyed, and he looks honoured, aside from all the shock. It makes her chuckle and reach for him again.  


  
His day-old stubble rasps against the skin of her throat when he kisses her there, and she stretches back, sighing softly in want for more. He runs his warm hands down her sides and up her back, long, tender strokes that tell her he can’t get enough, and she feels exactly the same burning want pooling low in her belly. When she shifts her legs, she feels how wet she is.  


  
Stopping abruptly, Clint extracts himself from her embrace and slides out from under the sheets, leaving her cold and confused and nearly angry until he takes out a tiny envelope from his bag. She furrows her brows until he comes over, fingers trembling slightly.  


  
Her stare is quizzical; he slips a slim ring with a knotted center out from it.  


  
“I know we’re so young,” he starts, “But I want to give this to you as a promise that I’m always tied to you. I know it isn’t much, I got it for pretty cheap off Etsy, but I want you to know that I love you, and I’ll buy you a better one when we’re older.”  


  
He says when, and not if, and suddenly she knows that this is the best decision she’s ever going to make, in the way you know in flashes that you won’t regret the moments in your life that build up to the future.  


  
The ring slides easily onto her finger, made for her, and she’s grinning so hard it’s a little ridiculous, but then he’s kissing the smile off her lips and she’s melting into the sheets, pliant beneath him, and she’s pretty sure he feels the same surge of want come back up again inside him like it does for her.  


  
“I’ve heard,” he says breathlessly, lightheaded and a little too excited, “I’ve heard it’s better if you’re – if you’re wetter.” He’s mumbling around one nipple, his mouth hot and eager at her breast, and the vibrations send her arching off the bed to push against him harder even as she laughs breathlessly.  


  
“ _Oh_ ,” she gasps, “I’m pretty wet, actually – _ah_!” The last cry comes when he slides a hand into her panties, his cold fingers slipping into her slit and against her clit.  


  
“Fuck,” he hisses, breath rushing out against the underside of her breast. He strokes at her with an unpracticed, but eager hand, and she cries out in surprise again, then in indignance when his hand leaves her panties. She’s about ready to scold him when he sucks his fingers into his mouth, attention leaving her for a fleeting moment, and she realises with a shudder that she wants his mouth on her, even if he doesn’t know how – hell, she’ll tell him what she likes. They can learn together.  


  
She’s nearly following that train of thought when she catches him moaning loud and crazed around his own fingers, hips jerking reflexively against her calf.  


  
“Clint – Clint, _please_ ,” the begging note in her voice startles him out of his daze and a flash of regret takes him as he stairs at her needy, wanting face, lips parted and rosy, eyes near shut from pleasure.  


  
“What?” He asks, “What do you want, baby?”  


  
“Your mouth,” squirming against the sheets, Natasha’s accompanying plea is nearly a whine and it almost undoes him, “Please – please put your mouth there, I want –”  


  
He’s rumbling low in his chest and sliding down her body once she says it, pressing an open mouthed kiss at the top of her sex, but then he can’t draw away and starts licking at her like he’s been dreaming about tasting her forever.  


  
He’s about to pull away and ask her to tell him what she likes, because he doesn’t know, but it seems like he’s on the right track because she’s starting to grind against his mouth, one hand already fisted in his hair.  


  
_(The moans that fall from her lips are the ones he wants to swallow and keep for lonely nights, for showers where he jerks off to thoughts of her. Most unbelievable is the fact that this beauty that he feels like he’ll always be in love with wants him, is crying out and bucking against his inexperienced mouth like he holds the secret to the ultimate sexual pleasure.)_   


  
“Yes, yes, fuck!” She’s breathing hard and gasping wildly, thrashing amongst the sheets and bucking fiercely, and Clint doesn’t take his gaze off her even as he licks circles around that one spot (she seems to love it) because she’s the most fucking beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his whole life.  


  
“ _Right there_ , please,” she whimpers, fuck, and Clint has to focus less on the heady, salty scent that surrounds him because he’s going to come on the goddamn sheets if he carries on. Too soon, she’s stiffening and tensing, her thighs tight around his head, mouth falling open on a loud cry of his name as he continues to suck at her.  


  
Her body is lithe and lean and covered with a thin layer of sweat when she slumps back onto the bed. Glorious and grinning loopily at him, she’s a picture he thought he’d never see, and he can’t help himself when he slips his tongue back down her slit and into her, lapping at her eagerly. She’s too sensitive, though, and he can tell, so he lets her push his head away from between her legs as she giggles a little hysterically.  


  
When she pulls him down to her and kisses him, sucking her taste right off his tongue, he thinks it’s the most erotic thing she’s ever done, but then he can’t be sure – and then he’s wrong, because she slides a hand between them and grips him. Her hold on him is firm but her eyes are unsure, and he gives her a delirious, debauched grin and teases, “Baby, I don’t think you can do anything wrong when it comes to me.”  


  
She gets a naughty glint in her eyes then, grips him firmer and strokes once, dragging her hand slowly down his shaft, and he shudders hard and pushes her hand away.  


  
Sure, he’s been jerking off to thoughts of her because he hasn’t wanted to push her too far, but her hand is soft and this is both their first times and the intimacy of it all overwhelms him and makes him feel like he’s going to waste their first time on the fucking sheets and disappoint her, and he doesn’t want to.  


  
“Did I do it wrong?” The soft whisper rouses him from his preoccupation with poker games and science inventions (thanks to Tony and Bruce) and he shakes his head, bracing himself on his elbows to kiss her.  


  
“No, baby, nothing at all – it’s…it was too good.”  


  
The small, shy grin that plays on her lips is much like the one she had the night of their first date and kiss, and he really fucking loves her.  


  
“Do you wanna…” she motions to their hips nervously.  


  
“Yeah, yeah, fuck, I want to – if you – if you’re okay?”  


  
She nods, biting her lips.  


  
“Don’t wanna hurt you, Tasha,” he says, suddenly serious as he meets her gaze with his own.  


  
“It’ll hurt, but it won’t be you,” she sounds surer than he feels, and she wraps her thighs around his hips, small hands on him, guiding him into her, but he wants so badly to make it good for her, so he takes over and slides the head of his cock against her slit instead, letting it pass over her clit until she’s shivering and sighing beneath him, fingers scrabbling at his shoulders. “Now, you can do it now – please,” she husks, and it’s so sexy that Clint has to take a moment.  


  
On the next stroke down, he pushes gently, feeling her open and stretch around him, and he damn near comes from just this; he has to breathe so hard and focus, but when he opens his eyes he sees her wince at the discomfort and nearly stops short until she digs her fingertips into his shoulders and shakes her head, legs tightening against his ass.  


  
There’s more pushing and pulling on her part, and conscious relaxation, until he’s finally fully sheathed in her and feeling the most amazing he’s felt in months.  


  
They stay like this for a while, for him to get his bearings and her to get used to his size; he’s not a monster but he’s decently sized and it’s probably a good thing that she’s so wet she’s probably dripping onto the sheets.  


  
He fits his face against her neck, gasping desperately that he loves her, and she says it back until he starts moving, then her voice catches on a low moan.  


  
“Does it hurt?” his worry overtakes the arousal after a few strokes, but she shakes her head.  


  
“Nothing I can’t stand – go on, I know how good it feels for you.”  


  
He frowns a little, “Is there anything I can do – to make it better?”  


  
“That – maybe that – when you touched my clit just now,” she mumbles, “That felt really good.”  


  
He squeezes a hand between them and strokes until he feels her jerk a little and hears her affirm, “Oh, _yes_ , just right there.”  


  
From there, she grows wetter than he thinks is possible, and he makes small circles around the sweet spot and finds that it makes her clench around him, and he moves in and out of her slow and deep, trying not to hurt her at all. He doesn’t have to worry, though, judging by the way she’s mewling her pleasure and rocking against him. They’re like a tidal wave moving together, and he’s never imagined a first time to be this good but he should’ve known, really, because everything is good around her, and she’s so passionate that he feels like he never wants to make love to anyone else.  


  
He fits inside her and she feels so full, so complete, and then his fingers against her clit are just divine, and Natasha finds herself spiralling fast towards orgasm, better than any she’s ever given herself with her own fingers, and she reaches down and strokes herself with him, their fingers slipping and sliding against each other until she’s crying out, hoarse and loud, clinging to him desperately and begging, “Please – come – with me, now, come – _Clint_!”  


  
His name is nothing if not a shriek, and Clint barely manages to pull out before he spills across her belly, hot and fast, and she moans at the sight of him marking her skin.  


  
He’s leaning down to hug her then, wanting nothing more now than the feel of her skin against his, before he spots the blood between her legs on the sheet. It’s normal, he knows, and nothing major, just a spot of dark red that looks like it’s already drying, but his heart clenches fiercely. She comes up on her elbows and looks down, seeing the cause for his concern. Her grip on his arm is firm, and she drags him to her and curls into him.  


  
“I’m alright,” she murmurs, rethinking her words immediately after, “Actually, I’m more than alright. That was – that was really good. Thank you,”  


  
Smiling uncertainly at her, Clint pulls her close and presses a kiss to the crown of her head.  


  
“You’re amazing,” he tells her, stroking a thumb down her cheek, “As you always are…could I – would you let me go down on you again?”

  
She feels a shiver down her spine at his words and god, yes, would she like him to do that again. She shows him just how much she’d liked it by kissing the breath out of him, and then they curl up in bed and nap until afternoon when it’s time to wake up and pack again.  


  
There are thoughts swimming in her head of how lucky she is to have him and to be loved by him, but those are deep and exhausting thoughts meant for later, so she cuddles up in the sheets against her boyfriend and lets herself go to sleep, feeling safe with him like she always does.  
 **  
**


End file.
